The Perfect Present, or Butterfly Farm
by Hutchie
Summary: Starsky finally gets Hutch the perfect gift.  The idea and details for this story were given to me by Jazzy babe!


**The Perfect Present**

I wanted to give Hutch the perfect birthday gift. But that's not as easy as it sounds. So I asked around, I bent the ears of my friends and contacts, and I finally found the perfect thing—I hoped.

Huggy told me about it. A butterfly farm. It sounded a little weird, but when he told me about it, it sounded like the kind of place Hutch would like—lots of plants and nature stuff. It sounded great, so I figured out the route, slung my camera and a packed lunch in the car, and took Hutch there on the first day off we had after his birthday.

He started grumbling because it was a long drive, and he wasn't sold on celebrating his birthday. "You already took me out to eat, Starsk. I don't need another present." He slouched down on his side of the Torino, and adjusted his sunglasses, and frowned out the front of the car. It was a hot, muggy day, and I'm sure he'd rather have been somewhere cooler than in my car, driving for hours. He wore a sort of pouting look, and I suspected he'd start asking "Are were there yet?" any second.

He'd been in a sour mood even before his birthday. I think it hits him harder every year. He's not the kind of guy that cares about a few wrinkles and stuff like that. I mean, I think his mortality hits him as hard as it hits anybody, but he's not vain. He doesn't care that he's losing some of his pretty-boy charm. I think the thing that bothers him is feeling like he's not doing anything important enough with his life. Maybe he had a list when he was a kid, and according to it, he should be winning the Nobel Peace Prize any day now.

I think Hutch has let go of many of the things from his childhood—some of his idealism, the feeling that he has to please everybody and live up to his father's name—but some things he's hung onto, even when they don't make sense anymore, like this feeling that he has to accomplish more and more in his life the older he gets, instead of being happy with his life and how much he really has done.

Anytime I try to tell him so, he tells me to quit trying to psychoanalyze him. Seems that being told all this doesn't really help him, just makes him feel grouchier yet. So I finally quit trying to tell him. Now I just do what I can to make his birthdays happy, and try to stay patient with him when he gets grouchy or depressed on his birthday.

Anyway, I really wanted to manage to cheer him up this time. I'd already failed on his birthday—he'd been sad and grouchy—so I wanted today to work out extra well.

I felt excited when we started out, but Hutch's discouragement was catching. By the time we finally arrived, I was almost as down as he was. Why i_had/i_ I insisted on dragging him halfway across creation on his one day off? Maybe this year I should've given in, and tried to let him forget his birthday, instead of celebrate it.

We got out of the car. I hung my camera over my shoulder and shut the door, frowning. Hutch glanced at my face. "Well, we're here, might as well see what it's like."

Great. Now he was trying to cheer me up. Where did I go wrong? This had sounded like such a good idea when Huggy told me about it….

I paid at the front and we climbed the long, winding ramp up to the conservatory, and walked through two sets of doors. On the second set, a sign said "Please do NOT leave the doors open or butterflies will escape."

I kind of liked the idea of that: all the butterflies on the loose, like convicts on the run, maybe people with nets chasing after them, like cops and robbers. We went through the doors and shut them behind us, obeying the sign.

And then… it was like a different world.

The first thing that hit me was the smell of flowers, leaves, and a sweet moisture, kind of like the air after a cleansing rain, but different, too. It wasn't muggy and hot, it was pleasant, refreshing, invigorating. I felt a huge grin growing on my face, and let out a relaxed, peaceful sigh. Butterflies! Butterflies were everywhere. We looked up and saw them fluttering over, around, past us…

I had never seen such beautiful colors—the living oranges and greens and black with white spots, yellows, purples, and pinks. It was amazing, a rainbow of fluttery wings everywhere around us.

I looked over at Hutch, at the huge grin growing on his face, and I knew he was feeling the same way, like we'd stepped into a different world, full of peace—a preview of heaven.

"This is nice, Starsk," he said quietly. It was so nice to see him smile like he meant it.

"Uh huh," I agreed. I didn't want to talk much. It seemed too quiet and beautiful, too special to spoil with words.

I took a deep breath. The air was fresh and tasted clean. The roof was one huge skylight. There was all kinds of vegetation—trees and flowers and beautiful vines. We heard birds and water trickling.

We we walked up and down the concrete pathways, each bend had something to show us. And there, in the center of it all, was a waterfall. It trickled into a pool surrounded by smallish trees and plants. We just stared.

After a little bit, without discussing it, we moved in the same direction, wandering over to a bridge that overlooked it, and drank in the moisture and scanned the walls, the trees, and the skylight for rare butterflies and moths. I saw a turquoise one, and Hutch nudged me and pointed out a pure white one.

"I could build a place like this," I heard Hutch mutter. "From my greenhouse…"

I felt so peaceful, like all the worries in my head, all the stress in my body that I hadn't even known was there, were melting away in this place, so far apart from the dirt and grime of our jobs, the stress and strain of daily living. I wanted to stay here forever.

Best of all, Hutch looked like himself again—the sad, depressed, angry Hutch replaced by the eager, smiling, peaceful and hopeful Hutch, the one who had his idealism intact, and wasn't beaten down by life. The one who could smile and smile, and mean it.

We stood like that for awhile, and then I took his arm and led him to a bench. We sat there and watched the butterflies. Other people came and went. Even kids were in awe. Some people snapped pictures.

Oh yeah, my camera. I'd forgotten about it. Now I slipped it off and quietly began to snap some pictures. I moved back to the bridge, and leaned over, waited till there were a lot of butterflies in the frame, and took a picture. I took a few more, some close-ups, some of the waterfall.

I heard Hutch come to stand quietly beside me. I turned and took a shot of his face. He was smiling, happy-looking. He raised a hand against the flash, blinking.

"Starsk," he said, in a low voice.

"Yeah, Hutch?" I smiled at him and put my camera back in its case and over my shoulder again. I already had the perfect picture.

"This really was the perfect gift, buddy." He put a hand on my arm, and his eyes were full of gentle warmth. "Thanks, buddy."

I grinned at him and nodded. I couldn't seem to talk.

We moved back to the bench, and sat down to watch the butterflies again. The sun was lowering in the sky, so we'd been here longer than it felt like. But no way were we leaving before we had to go.

Already, the flow of people had slowed. Pretty soon, we were just about the only people there. We sat side by side, soaking up the peace. I took a few more photos. Then when it was nearly dark an employee walked through and quietly told us the conservatory was closing.

We got up slowly. I realized we'd been sitting longer than it felt like, because I was a little stiff. I reached over to help Hutch up, and he nodded his thanks, obviously feeling the same way.

We left the conservatory reluctantly and stepped out into the regular, everyday world.

The sun was nearly down; we'd be driving home in the dark. This trip had taken the whole day, but it was worth it.

We got into the car, still quiet, carrying the memory of the special butterfly farm with us. Usually, I'd be talking cheerfully about something right now, or Hutch would be saying something, or we'd have a few jokes to trade. But we still felt absorbed in the silence of the place, and the butterflies and the water and the clean, clean air. Keeping silent seemed to carry it with us longer.

It was cooler now, and the drive wasn't unpleasant. I turned on my headlights. After a little bit, I glanced over at Hutch, and saw he was slouched asleep in his seat, a smile on his face.

Yeah.

I think I finally got him a good birthday present. I'll have to thank Huggy again for telling me about this place. And maybe we can turn Hutch's greenhouse into something like this. Either way, I know we've got to come back.


End file.
